It's A Process
by valiantblueknight
Summary: He has a process around the whole thing. Masturbation, that is. Equius Zahhak, prideful, STRONG blueblood that he is, has a process around jerking it.
1. The Process

He has a process around the whole thing.  
Masturbation, that is.  
Equius Zahhak, prideful, STRONG blueblood that he is, has a process around jerking it.

Admittedly he doesn't do it often, usually relieving tension by indulging in his careful craft of building robots. And then breaking them. However, he does have needs. And with the rampant lewdity that has a tendency to get him hot, sweaty, and bothered, he has of course found ways to accommodate for his strong grip and not accidentally rip his bulge off in the process of pleasuring himself to completion.

This process usually starts with someone saying something they shouldn't. The someone is usually lower than him, just by virtue of statistical probability. Whether it be Vantas doing something improper like ordering him around that makes him shudder with disgust at how wrong it is, Aradia obeying the caste system in such a delightful way that makes him tremble with just how right it is, Captor mentioning how little their caste system ultimately matters, swearing, saying 'ii don't give a flying fuck about how 2trong you are, ii can 2till whip your a22 any day of the week', or even Terezi jokingly asking him if everything tastes like his font does, like blueberries, or if he just tastes like sweat.

Then, of course, there is the casual manner by which the highblood breaks every caste rule, so disgusting in how little he cares, in how he soils his noble blood with putrid sopor and sugarwater. Not to mention his befouled manner of talking, though really there is no one that doesn't speak with crude, coarse language. With the exception of Nepeta of course, she is much too innocent for that, and he will fight to keep things that way. She is the only one who has never riled him up with a wrong word at the wrong time, for which he is thankful. Breaking the bonds of moirallegiance is not a thought he relishes.

Once he is all worked up, he will usually make the attempt to calm himself. Sometimes by power of will, sometimes by fighting, sometimes by building. Such things are dignified, as opposed to pleasuring himself, which is depraved, not suited to his caste, and… well, lewd. Eventually, drenched in sweat, he will determine that this is doomed to failure, and will cave. He goes into his main workshop, then into a more secretive one, to let himself succumb to pleasure.

His first forays with this were inexperienced, quick, usually painful, and never satisfactory. It's hard to get off when it is so difficult to touch yourself gently, and when touching yourself gently isn't enough to reach your climax. Since then, he has built machines to aid him in getting such business over with quickly, though not without some enjoyment in the activity. And some shame. Not that he particularly minds feeling shameful.

After he makes his way into his most secretive of workshops, which for both convenience and comfort has a concupiscent platform in it, he lays down on said comfortable platform, removes his too confining shorts. Assuming they haven't ripped, that is. His bulge, as strong as it is, tends to do that when he gets too excited. Once he has freed himself from the confines of his shorts, he begins trailing his fingers along his squirming bulge. Feather light touches to the admittedly strong appendage, teasing in a way. He lets out little hisses of pleasure as he does so, not quite moaning, not quite giving himself up to it completely. He teases himself, and while he does so he fantasizes. Sometimes it's about Vantas lording over him, or of Captor binding him down with psionics, unable to move, completely at his mercy. More farfetched are Vriska mind controlling him, making him do unspeakably lewd things, or the highblood finally taking charge of him, making him heel to a properly dominating hand. When he is no longer able to fantasize about specifics, no longer able to picture more than fleeting images of his fantasies, he stops his teasing, which has turned less tentative and more rough with his lack of concentration. He is aching, in more ways than one.

And this is where his specially made machines come in handy, and why this room is hidden. He may get a thrill out of being shamed, but if anyone ever found out about anything in this room he'd die of mortification. (And very possibly arousal.)

He gets off of the concupiscent platform and makes his way on foal like limbs to a metal chair. He sits in it, shudders at the cold metal on his flushed skin, and finally takes the moment to peel off his sweat drenched wifebeater. His bulge writhes and lashes blue marks on his bare, muscled stomach as he grips the arms of the chair hard enough for the metal to warp. It's easily repairable damage, how he designed it to be. If he spends too long repairing the machine, he ends up having to use it a second time, so he of course took that into account to prevent it.

A flip of an easily replaced switch makes shackles close around his wrists and ankles. Maybe he doesn't necessarily need them there, but he likes the feeling of being secure, bound, contained. His fingers find a control panel, and he carefully presses a button, turns a dial. At first making of this device, there was quite a bit of experimentation, trying to find just the right settings, but now he has everything perfect, designed to get him off quickest in his already needy state. Efficiency might as well be his middle name.  
As he skillfully manipulates the control panel with a surprising amount of control for just how turned on he is, a bulge slowly works its writhing way inside him. A perfect metal masterpiece, it fills him to the brim and the cold metal perfectly simulates the thing it's based off of. As long as it's turned on at least. The few times he's accidentally broken his machine enough to turn it off, the fluid mechanics go uncomfortably still inside him.

As soon as he is filled to the brim, and sometimes (depending on his mood) stretched just a little past that point, the thing starts to work inside of him, arresting loud groans from him as his head falls back against the back of the chair with pleasure. Sometimes he'll allow himself to fall forward instead, watching with interest as he gets fucked by his own perfect mechanical contrivance, blue smearing across his stomach and pooling in the chair with his sweat.

He usually manages to keep himself relatively composed even with a metal bulge shoved seedflap deep in his nook, even though he has a terrible tendency to moan like a bulgeslut. But sometimes it's all he can manage, just to keep from bouncing on the wonderful metal appendage inside him, to keep from breaking what he worked so hard to build. And even more, to his shame, occasionally when he gets close to his climax, he'll begin to nearly swear. Sometimes, a few curse words will slip past his lips, filling the room along with his groans and whines and the wet sounds of him being thrusted into. Only when he's close though, only when he can no longer keep his usually carefully maintained control, when he's fighting to keep enough of his senses to keep from damaging anything.

He climaxes in a flood of bright blue, sometimes with a shuddering groan, sometimes keening with pleasure. And then after, he frees himself from his self imposed prison, towels off, and makes his dripping, shameful way to his bathroom. After this, he is hardly ever afraid of breaking things. Usually, his muscles are just too tired, though he has no doubt he'd still bruise someone if he touched them anyway.

It is a process. And, even if he almost loathes the crude activity in a way, it is absolutely worth it.


	2. The First Time

The first time Equius attempted masturbating was a confusing, embarrassing, and painful experience, to say the least. He didn't have a process around it, and experimenting with such fragile parts of his body has a tendency to go bad when mixed with super strength.

The first time he tried masturbating is also the first time he unsheathed. And it starts off with embarrassment. Captor hacked him. And suddenly, in place of all of his old schematics, there are… Quite a large number of lewd pictures. He would like to say that he closes the files instantly, but he does not. He instead begins to browse through them, already drenched in sweat as his eyes, hidden by cracked lenses, rove over pictures he himself would have never looked up. And because of that, this is the first time he's seen such intimate parts of someone's anatomy outside of the clean confines of a medicull textbook.

The more he looks over the pictures, the more of a pattern he notices. There are quite a few pictures where the highblood is servicing the lowblood, on their knees before their lessers. That is… An idea that had never even crossed his mind, before this date. The implications of such make his bulge squirm out of it's sheath and strain at his shorts. And the idea that Captor had specifically picked out the most debauched pictures out of a set for him to peruse… A long, loud, ripping noise comes from his crotch as the writhing mass of flesh works especially hard to make itself known.

He just popped a wriggly so STRONG it ripped his shorts.

Well. That's embarrassing.

He stares down at the blue tentacle for a long moment, his expression somewhere between confusion, awe, and shame. What is he supposed to do with this?

Well, it's not as if it isn't obvious, even though he's never done it before. Even if it's inappropriate, even if it's the lewdest thing he can- His bulge lashes, he can practically feel his pulse in it. Slowly, tentatively, as if his bulge is a deadly snake rather than part of his own anatomy, he wraps his sweaty hand around it. He lets out a low hiss of pleasure at the new source of friction. Even though he is being as gentle as he can manage, the friction is rough as he begins stroking the length of his bulge. He finds he quite likes it.

His bulge squirms in his grip, slick and, of course, quite strong. He groans softly as he continues to stroke. He has a bucket around here somewhere, he thinks. He'll grab it in a moment, after he is done with his limited exploration. He makes to take off his shorts, might as well not ruin these any more than he already- He rips them. Fiddlesticks.

The noble blueblood is too engrossed in the debauchery of his current act to turn back now, and his other hand goes to tease the slit of his nook curiously. He lets out another low moan of pleasure at the new sensation, and his strong fingers slip inside of himself. He is getting more and more worked up at the things he is doing to himself, and his eyes fall back to the screen of his husktop.

It is only natural that, in light of the subject of the pictures, and in light of the person who sent them, his first fantasy should be of just such a situation. Even though none of the pictures have near the caste difference as is held between he and Captor do. He groans louder as he thinks of servicing the yellowblood, possibly even murmuring said lowblood's name a few times, quickly driving himself closer to his climax as he strokes his bulge, as he works his fingers inside of him. His strokes are getting rougher, he's having more trouble keeping himself gentle, until-

He strokes a place inside of himself that makes him near blind with pleasure. He keens, his hands spasm, and then he screams. He accidentally just squeezed his bulge a lot harder than was necessary, his fingers just stabbed the innermost part of his nook, and pain shoots through the delicate parts of his anatomy as blue tears well in his eyes. He pulls his fingers out of himself, wiping them on a nearby towel, and lets go of his bulge, which throbs with pain as it does it's best to resheathe. It doesn't do a very good job, already starting to swell a bit.

After that, he looks up how to deal with a bruised bulge, deletes the files, and then gets on chat to berate the lowblood for hacking him.

* * *

\- centaursTesticle began trolling twinArmageddons -

CT: D - You will cease any further tampering with my husktop

CT: D - And do not bother to deny involvement

TA: why the fuck 2hould ii?

TA: 2ure looked two me liike you were enjoyiing your2elf.

CT: D - I

CT: D - What?

TA: webcam dumba22.

CT: D - You hacked my webcam?

CT: D - That is so inconcievably

CT: D - Why woold you

TA: ii wa2 bored.

CT: D - That is an enormous invasion of privacy

CT: D - And quite lood besides

CT: D - You saw nothing

TA: actually, ii 2aw everythiing. how'2 the bruii2iing treatiing you?

TA: miight want two get 2ome iice on that

CT: D - I

\- centaursTesticle has blocked twinarmageddons -

* * *

Sollux sat back, entirely amused and… Well, maybe a little turned on. He started replacing the files, schematics untouched except for the occasional comment on their design structure and software. He slipped in one extra file, schematics he had managed to get (hack) from an online manufacturer for pailing machines. He left the porn where it was.

Then he left a message on Eq's desktop.

niice try blockiing me. next tiime, giive me a real 2how, huh?

Then he finally logged off and dragged himself to the ablution block to finish off where he had started.

* * *

The first Equius does is cover his webcam. Then he makes sure all the lewd pictures are deleted from his computer. He doesn't save a single one.

Okay, maybe he does save a few. But with luck, Sollux won't notice. Or at the very least, won't comment. As he's deleting files, he notices his schematics being returned, and makes a low noise of satisfaction as he looks over them, his face twisting into a mask of annoyance at the comments. Even though they are more or less all pretty intelligent comments. He does have his pride after all.

Then the message pops up. His brows go up as he reads, and he finally grabs a towel to wipe his sweaty self off. That is… He refuses to consider it, pushing the thought from his mind entirely.

He doesn't walk very much for the next week.

But when he is up on his feet again, he looks over the new schematic. Makes some adjustments. Decides to build it, after a bit of streamlining of the design. He sets up a new workshop, setting up a new computer in the room as well.

And this webcam, he decides not to cover.


End file.
